


Keys

by Stikjok



Category: Jumper Book Series
Genre: Exploration, Gen, Science Fiction, Spaceflight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-04
Updated: 2014-05-04
Packaged: 2018-01-21 23:42:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1568192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stikjok/pseuds/Stikjok
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cent and Joe have big ideas about how to use the Jump ability.<br/>This work takes place immediately after 'Impulse'</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> All characters belong to the great writer and current president of the Science Fiction Writers of America, Steven Gould. The books are MUCH better than the lame movie, I highly recommend them.

Keys.

Chapter 1

“Dad?” I walked into the large family room from the kitchen with Joe, my right hand clenched firmly in his left to the white-knuckle point, betraying my nervousness. The whiteboard that Dad used to write where he would be and when he’d return had been erased, so he should be home. 

Sure enough, he was there in the easy chair that he favored near the fireplace, a hardback book with a dark cover open in his hands. He looked up from it to me and closed it, leaving his finger in place for a bookmark. He smiled at us and I noticed Mom sitting comfortably on the couch, an ereader in her hand. I glanced at Joe with a cringe in my eyes and he acknowledged it. We had planned to talk to Dad and get him excited about our plan before bracing Mom to the notion. Dad was more conservative and security conscience than Mom, but we had thought that he was a bit more of a dreamer. I sighed and nodded at Joe, indicating that we should go on with the presentation. I had been screwing up my courage to do it for too long to just stop now.

“Joe, we haven’t seen you for a week or so. How’ve you been?” Dad was looking at both of us a little concerned, I thought. He must of picked up on my nervousness. Joe piped up with, “Just fine, sir. Cent and I have been working on a project.” I shot him another look, this time full of, “Too fast, too fast!”

Dad looked at both of us again and said, “Milly, it looks like they have something to get off of their chests. Could you put the teapot on?” Mom nodded and turned her reader off and set it aside, rising to head to the kitchen behind us. I pulled Joe towards the couch that Mom had vacated and sat down, pulling him down beside me close. I wanted his support and help talking to my parents in this initial discussion, especially since Mom would be there and we had thought that it would be harder to get both of my parents to look upon our plans favorably.

Joe talked a bit with Dad about school while I bit my lip and tried to take slower breaths, waiting on Mom. Ever since Joe had gotten a far look in his eyes and asked me a couple of leading questions about my abilities, I had been getting more and more excited about our notion. This was the biggest stumbling block, though, getting Mom and Dad’s approval and participation. Joe and I knew we could go ahead without their approval, but I had outright refused the idea. I had just turned seventeen and I knew I was smart, but my parents had been through so much that I knew that, for lack of a better word, they had wisdom about our situation. I didn't want to go on without it, and Joe agreed.

Mom returned with a tray of drinks and some shortbread cookies. Joe ended up with some sweet hot chocolate, complete with tiny marshmallows, to which he grinned and thanked Mom. After we all had gotten some sips in, I took another deep breathe and started.

“Last week, Joe asked me a jumping question I didn't have a ready answer for. It was about destination location, Dad. He wanted to know if we could jump into a something that was moving. I had to say kind of yes and no, we can’t look up and jump into a moving airplane, or a car, or something like that since we have to acquire a specific jump location. But I did tell him that when you and Mom were travelling in her car, you jumped from the back seat to the front with no problem.”

Joe spoke then. “What I was really curious about was whether you had to acquire a jump site with specific coordinates x, y, z, or if you could choose to get a location within something that had a non-specific coordinate.” He looked at Dad to make sure he was being followed, and Dad made a ‘go on’ gesture, like he wanted to get to the end so he could answer whatever question Joe had. But Joe held up his hand and said, “Wait just a minute. I need to tell you about our experiment and the implications.”

“We bought a light weight portajohn on wheels from an outfit in the Midwest, one that Cent could jump. She moved it to an abandoned mall parking lot, went inside and acquired a jump site within. She came outside, closed the door and jumped back and forth a couple of times to make sure she could. Then I asked her to turn her back, close her eyes and put her hands over her ears. Then I rolled the johnie about ten feet away. I came back to her and asked her to jump to the john without looking at it. She kept her eyes on me… and did it.”

Joe was grinning like a madman. “I ended up rolling that thing all over to prove the hypothesis, even taking it a couple of streets away in a random direction. She got into it every time. She had acquired a jump site with a non-specific coordinate.”

I took over. “What we did then was answer Joe’s original question. I turned my back again, and while Joe was moving the johnie from one side of the lot to the other, I jumped into it again. With my back turned. There was no jerk to it from being stationary; I had automatically acquired the slow velocity of the moving privy. Now, it makes sense that if I could locate it stationary, I could do it moving, since we are all moving all the time as the world turns… but it was the final confirmation we needed for our planning.”

Dad was staying quiet. I could see that none of what we had said was surprising to him, he and Mom had run through similar things in their life together and he was patient with the drawn out explanation of what we had been doing. Joe coughed into his hand and said, “Sir, in addition to Austin and some other authors that Cent and I have in common, I also like some of the old space opera books. I made an assumption based on distance then, and Cent remembered something you said about the experiments they did on you when you were captured.”

“It was about the speed of jumping. You and they discovered that there was some overlap, and for the smallest split second you were in both places at the same time. This enables you to do that water trick I've seen you do, and it means that you aren't really traveling from one place to another, you are really choosing where you want to be on the surface of the world. It wasn't just faster than light; it was instantaneous.” Joe leaned forward and at Dad squarely. “Why does it have to just be THIS world?”

Dad grinned and said, “It’s not a new thought to me, son. I like stargazing more than most; you think I haven’t looked up at the moon wishing for a telescope good enough that I could get a jump site there? We could buy a space suit from Russia easy enough. But the tech just isn't good enough yet for that.”

Joe and I looked at each other and smiled. I said, “We…. Have a way around that, Daddy. The velocity trick I've learned opens up some avenues. The limitation of how much you can jump is related to how much you can lift, right? Well, the only limitation to how much velocity I can acquire is how much wind speed I can stand, and it’s quite a lot, upwards of 300 miles an hour, with protection.” Joe said seriously, “Have you ever heard of the Orion drive, Mister Rice?” Dad shook his head, looking more interested than he had been.

“It’s a kind of drive for interplanetary space, a pie in the sky thing that would probably never have worked except in science fiction. It was used in ‘Footfall’ by Niven and Pournelle around 30 years or so. Cool book, the aliens look like baby elephants. But the drive is even cooler. You build a starship on top of huge shock absorbers and thick steel plate. Then set off a nuclear bomb on the other side of the plate. No matter what, that ship will MOVE.” Joe grinned again. “Cent can be the bomb.”

Mom had had her accepting face on until now. It dropped like a hot rock and she said, “Say that again? I don’t think I heard you anywhere near right.”

I held out my hands, hopefully placating her a bit. “No explosions, I promise! And I certainly am not going to be at the bottom of any ship pushing for all I’m worth. Here.” I pulled out the drawings that Joe and I had made, corrected, and argued over for the past couple of days. “We build a small capsule big enough for two, me and a pilot. I’m at the upper tip, and when I’m ready, I inflate padding that touches and surrounds me completely, like an all over waterbed or airbag. Probably air; we’re trying to save weight. I start adding velocity slowly, to whatever I’m comfortable with… and the capsule rides up with me.”

Dad was looking a bit shocked. Joe and I had planned to whipsaw him a bit between us so we could get through the whole thing before he could bog us down in little objections, so he took over again. “The great thing is since the acceleration is free and so constant, it doesn't matter how long it takes to get into orbit; Cent just goes until it’s done. The pilot has course adjustment rockets and of course can ask Cent to just add more delta-v in whatever direction they need. Cent IS the drive. Once they get above the atmosphere, they can pick out a parking orbit… or head directly to a Lagrange point. Once there, the real magic happens.”

Joe leaned forward. “We've been in space for over 60 years, Sir, and it still averages over 11,000 dollars a pound to put something in orbit. Once we park the capsule in the Lagrange point, all of that is now free. Cent can bring up modular equipment and supplies by the ton, people to put it together, everything needed to begin a real conquering of space. All the promised zero-gee factories to make the special precision stuff we are going to need… well, everything needed for the next step.”

Dad looked at him, nothing but doubt so far in his face. “Which is?”

I looked at him with hope and excitement. “Mars. And the stars.”


	2. Chapter 2

Joe held me as I cried. He rocked my shoulders against his chest slowly and let me get it out, my nose stopping up and tears running down into my lips. I hate it when I cry.

Dad had read me the riot act from ground to sky, talking about all the people that get hurt; get killed when we are forced to break cover. And he’s right, of course. People that can’t jump and are caught in the open when we are pinpointed by the enemy and are just cannon fodder for the fuckers that have been after us for years. It was a major miracle that both Dad and Joe agreed that I could keep a boyfriend, and Joe had been my rock ever since we had to move back to the Yukon. I didn't get to see him very often; he had a life to maintain back in New Prospect and he had to pretend that I didn’t exist... and even that other girls didn't exist, for my sake. I made it up to him when I could; we surfed off Walmea Bay in Oahu, snowboarded all the time with no lift waits, got into concerts all over the world of bands that he loved. But I knew it was hard on him all the same, not having someone with whom you could go out with friends for a good time.

For now though, he held me, and that was enough.

______________________________________________________________________________

Milly was softly crying too, her hands folded quietly on her lap, watching her husband. She’d been listening to the kids present their ideas and not noticing how Davy was reacting too long, and had cringed as they let the beast out of the bag. She should have stopped his outrage, his fear at the idea long before it had reached the crescendo it had, and knew she now had to rein her family into the fairly healthy group they normally were. There was more to the plan than Cent had said, she knew it as strongly as she knew that Cent was of her blood; but Davy had blown up and that had been that. 

Davy was pacing in front of the fire, something she was used to seeing. She knew that he was someone that could think clearly and quickly both sitting or active, but she also knew that if there was a strong emotion involved, he wanted to be doing something. Building, walking, bicycling, it helped him get over how slow he was to admit his feelings. She sipped again at her tea before putting down the cup and saying, “Sweetheart? Ready to be rational yet?

“Rational? You heard her! Even after having her life in danger, her friends’ lives, losing everything to those shitheels…” He stopped and ran both hands through his hair, eyes squeezed shut in consternation. “I can’t believe she has been thinking about anything like this. It would mean regular and constant exposure to hundreds, even thousands of people that we don’t know and don’t know we can trust.” Davey looked at me, pleading with his eyes and frightened to the core.

“You reacted. I understand where it comes from, and your daughter is no fool, she knows you almost as well as I do. She wouldn't have said something like this unless she had a lot of planning and thought behind it, love. If you respect the job we've done raising her, if you respect her intellect, her heart, and her caution, then it wouldn't do any harm to hear her out. If it’s as foolhardy as you believe, she loves and respects us well enough to listen. I’m going to remind you once again. There are no chains of any kind on her and you can’t put any on her. She’s unique and has more freedom than any young person in the history of the world. If you can’t convince her, you can’t stop her.”

Davey sat and just held his head for a while. MIlly went over to him and put one arm over his trembling shoulders and with the other gently moved his hands from his face. She put every ounce of the love and patience that she felt in her voice and said, “We owe it to ourselves to either convince her to give this up or help her. There is very little middle ground. It may change our lives beyond anything we can imagine, but how is that different than any other family? Let her talk, let US talk. It can’t do anything but let us see her plans and see if we think she can survive them.”

It took another hour of soothing, but he nodded at last, as Milly knew he would. 

___________________________________________________________________

When Mom came upstairs to ask me to come back down, Joe was gone. I shrugged and said, “He had homework. We forgot to bring his books this time so he could work on it here, so I took him back.” I looked at Mom carefully in the face and asked, “Is Dad calm now?”

Mom sat beside me and spoke gravely. “He’s still going through this… paradigm shift. He and I both grew up with a certain view of how families worked, about authority issues between adults and children need to be resolved. It didn't help his outlook that his own father was abusive and an alcoholic. Cent, you need to remember that in a normal family, children are dependent on parents, need them more than, well, you and,”

I interrupted loudly. “Not need you?! Are you kidding me? You and Dad saved my life not long ago, mine and people I care about. I KNOW how much I need you, how much we need each other.” I stood up. “I need to finish what I have to say to both of you.” I jumped back to the living room abruptly, facing Dad who was still sitting on the couch. Mom appeared and I took both of their hands, sitting on the floor in front of them.

I looked back and forth between their faces, gathering their attention, and I hoped, their approval… eventually. “Both of you have been through life changing experiences that made you evaluate your risk by what you valued. Mom, you chose to use jumping to help people all over the world when emergencies happened. You might get caught, you might get killed, each time you go out there it might be your last. But you made a reasonable decision that it was worth the risk. That the contribution to the world was worth what it might cost you and people you love.”

I turned fully on my father. “You did the same. Any one of those terrorists you caught could and would have put a bullet in your brain. But you thought it was worth it… and you think what Mom does now is worth it. There is risk in what I want to do. And I don’t just think it’s worth it, I think it’s the very best thing I can do with the gifts the two of you gave me.”

I shook my head slowly, willing them to see my commitment. “We've given this a lot of thought. We think we've addressed the major issues that you’ll object to. If you can shoot holes in them, that’s great… because I’ll make you sit down and help me think up better ways. Dad… I can see this as my life’s work. Something that will benefit the entire world. Something that I can look at and be proud of.”

Dad was clutching at his chest, at the scars under the shirt there. I knew what he was feeling, and felt the anguish that I was causing him. I also knew that some part of him just wanted to jump away from this, flight reflex in full effect. And finally, I knew that he wouldn’t. And that he would help me. Because he loved me.

He nodded slowly at last and drew me in close.


	3. Chapter 3

Four days later Dad and I were taking coffee and croissants at a café across the street from the European Space Administrations’ directorate building on the rue Mario-Nikis in Paris. I had my notebook open occasionally to check faces against the database we had been building on the directors.

The current Director-General of the ESA is Jean-Jacques Dordain, a former professor of aeronautics who had done good work with microgravity research and rocket engines. Dad and I had settled on different priorities. The person we wanted was going to have to satisfy us on so many levels that we doubted their existence.

Until we got to Jules Morjuet. A French citizen, Professeur Morjuet had had a distinguished career in zero-g biological research before dropping everything to help the formation of Coordination SUD in 1994, a consolidation group six French NGO’s, as well as 130 other international ones focused on humanitarian issues, mostly agricultural. He had disposed of massive amounts of waste and concentrated the efforts of these organizations to the thing they had been formed for… feeding the hungry. In doing so, he had saved perhaps millions of lives while displaying a brilliance in cutting needless bureaucracy to a bare minimum. 

In 2007, Jules had been convinced that there was a need for him in the European Space Agency and now he was the operational Directeur Biologique, controlling life sciences in ESA projects. He still lectured worldwide on humanitarian issues, reportedly had a wonderful home life and was a rare kind of person, rare enough that we didn’t think anyone else would do for our purposes. Mom had met him a few times at conferences and had been wildly enthusiastic when Dad and I started discussing him.

Dad saw him first. I saw him straighten up and he nodded across the street. I turned my head and saw a slim, energetic man with a coffee and briefcase walking towards the main entrance of the ESA directorate from the southeast. I raised the binocs and looked at him. I knew his photo, but had asked Dad if we could arrange it if I could look at him before the big meeting.

Jules’ face was open and smiling this morning. I didn't know what he was thinking, didn't know what had happened to him this morning that had tickled his funny bone or gave him peace, but I thought that we were lucky to see it. It seemed like a smile that was just glad to be alive and have purpose. It was a smile that belonged on someone that was happy for all the right reasons. It was a smile that I wanted to shine on me. I looked at Dad and said, “He’ll do.”

________________________________________________________________

“Thanks for coming, Becca.” Special Agent Rebecca Martingale pulled open the chair opposite Millie and sat down, putting her purse under the table and her cell beside her plate. She didn’t look any different than when Millie had seen her last, arresting the group that had tried to kidnap Cent. “How close is retirement now?”

Becca smiled a little and said, “I pushed it back a little, so I’m looking at a smidge over two years.” She looked around and said lowly, “Not exactly Starbucks.”

Millie grinned at her and gestured at the menu to La Galette. It was an impressive French restaurant not far from the Air and Space museum in DC. “I invited you, lunch is on me, go crazy. I’m trying to soften you up.” Becca raised her eyebrows, but didn't say anything more until giving her order to the slim black waiter. She then sat back in her chair looking at Millie expectantly. For her part, Millie couldn't help but compare the expression to her own therapy face and smile at the close resemblance.

“Our family has a measure of trust in you, Agent. I believe that you've done your best to find the people that hurt Davy. I also believe that you’re frustrated and angry at the walls that have been thrown up in your way.” Millie sipped at her tea. “This may come as a warning, or it may be an opportunity. I don’t really know what you want at this point in your life. Some people like to ease into retirement, not be busy and overloaded up until the day. I’m… our family is going to try something kind of radical. I don’t want to share the details with you just yet, but the upshot to you is that you may get a lot of help from above to pursue those people that hurt us. Or there might be a huge pushback from that organization. We don’t really know what’s going to happen. But we think it’ll be big.”

Millie sighed and said, “Davy and Cent are making the first moves now. We expect American reaction anywhere in the next few months. And that’s when they’ll call on you. I don’t know if they’ll try to take it away from you or put you in charge, but we imagined that if you could see it coming in advance you could position yourself however you wanted. So now I’m asking. What do you want?”

Becca looked Millie squarely in the eyes. “I’m in the FBI to protect people. To catch bad guys. I’ve had to deal with being forced to back off of this case now for nineteen years.” She smiled, then let it expand into the grin of a predator. “Put the right weapons in my hands and it’ll be a blast. As coda to my career, it sounds perfect.”

As coda to a very good meal, that answer was also perfect.

___________________________________________________________________

That evening, Dad pressed the ringer to Directeur Morjuets’ home address while holding my hand. We had prepared what we were going to say, but beginnings can be hard times for people, and we were going to be depending on this man for so very much. The speaker beside the door said, “Bonjour? Qui est-il, s'il vous plaît?” Dad leaned forward into it and said, “Directeur, je suis Davy Rice. Ma femme Millicent vous appelle sur moi. Vous avez un peu de temps pour discuter d'une proposition?

The door opened and the Directeur was smiling at us. “Ah, Bonjour! Yes, Millie did call me. Any family of that woman is a friend to me and mine. Please, enter, let me gather drinks and we can talk.” He looked at me kindly and said, “Are you also a Rice, young miss? If so, how wonderful of your father to bring you! I’m afraid that my own children are away or moved out, but please, be at your ease within.”

Dad and I did enter and it was a very nice home. Not really ostentatious, it just seemed like a place where a family lived, not just a couple. There on the walls were prints of beautiful farms in winter, and the furniture was overstuffed and comfortable. The Directeur introduced us to his wife, a blond matron that gave me a slight courtesy and asked if I wanted to wait in the next room while, “Our men speak.” Dad smiled and said, “Actually, our proposal is mostly Cents’ idea. She will be with me.” The madam shrugged gracefully and left after delivering some cookies and iced water.

We all sat and the Directeur said, “I've always been impressed with your wife, monsieur Rice. Her work in emergency conditions has been extraordinary in so many difficult situations. She mentioned expanding your operations, yes?”

Dad smiled back at him. “Yes, but not in the way you mean. It is not your NGO work for which we come to you, but your present occupation. We have a proposal for the ESA for a series of manned spaceflight missions.” He raised a hand to the Directeurs’ fading smile. “Please hear me out. I know you have no power over mission planning, I know that your directorate only deals with biology and effects of space and radiation. And lastly, I know that very soon you will be thinking of me and my daughter some wonderings about our mental state.”

He pulled from his back pocket a thick dark paperback. It had a picture of a Boeing 737 on the cover over the title ‘Disappearing act’ and the author’s name, Jean-Paul Corseau. “Have you ever read this? There were a lot of books written about the hijacking interventions 20 years ago. This one is the best. I know because I collaborated with Jean-Paul on it.” He waited.

The Directeurs’ smile had completely disappeared. He looked sad. “Monsieur, I do not see how I can help you. You are quite correct, I have no ability to alter the planned missions of the agency, nor, I think, the wisdom to do so and keep all the directorates happy. I don’t know what…” His voice trailed off as dad stood up and jumped to the other side of the low coffee table we had been talking over. Dad let the mans’ eyes settle on him, then jumped to the left. Right side, left side, Dad jumped back and forth, just waiting for the Directeurs’ eyes to bounce back and forth. After about 6 times, Dad sat back down and picked up the book again. “This is about me and what I have done. What we’re hoping is that you will be involved with what we will do.”

The Directeur was remarkably calm in a short while. He was silent as Dad recounted his antiterrorist career and the uneasy peace with the NSA afterwards. I picked up the thread of the conversation then.

“Sir, in a lot of ways, I’m just like most of my generation. We can’t believe that humans surged to the moon and let it go. That our parents had such big dreams and settled for Dish network satellites. We want those dreams back.” I jumped to his side and put a hand on his shoulder. He started, but not much, I thought. “Sir, I know that you are thinking, ‘Why me?’ The truth is that my father and I are like Diogenes, looking for an honest man. We are hoping that you can be that man. We are offering a shortcut to most of the things that the ESA wants, because we want it too. But that way will be difficult and comes with some special conditions that cannot be altered.”

The Directeur looked at me intently. “Child, I AM asking, Why me? Yes, I have a directorship and some small influence. It is not enough to even begin a project like this. I don’t know what you have in mind, but space is expensive. Even with a ‘shortcut’ of some kind, it will take the efforts of thousands of trained people to accomplish it properly.”

Dad said, “Why you, is a matter of integrity. We absolutely need someone that can work with our conditions and make sure to choose others that are the same way. As for small influence, after our feasibility study, we believe you will have all the influence you need.” Dad grinned broadly. “If you can prove that you have a working stardrive, one that is fast, free and enable colonization faster than anyone could have believed, I don’t see how they can avoid making you Director General very quickly. My daughter and I, we ARE the stardrive. We intend to carry Mankind to the stars. On our backs.”

“You've mentioned conditions several times.” The Directeur said. He was rubbing his face and pinching his nose between his eyes. Well, people reacted to weird stuff differently. At least he wasn't screaming at our jumping. “I need to know what I have to work around before I start working. If I take the job.”

“You may have been wondering why we are here with you instead of NASA, sir. Yes, we are international people, but we are culturally Americans. America is not to be involved AT ALL.” I said. I sighed heavily. “There is some kind of cancerous organization in the United States. It may extend worldwide, it may be in the European union, it may have agents anywhere. But we KNOW it in the USA and influences both the government and security bodies that the government controls.”

Dad took over, explaining how he had been captured and tortured, opened his shirt to show his scars. He went on to tell how we knew that the group was still active and hunting for us, ending with the rearrest of Hyacinth Pope. He said, “It is our hope that once the American government sees that space will be opening up and they will be locked out as long as that group remains at large, they will move heaven and earth to break them up. We will not include Americans in our plans until they can prove that they have killed or captured every person involved. Directeur, I am an American, and I can tell you with perfect confidence that there is one thing my country will not stand for. That thing is to be told ‘No, you are not worthy.’ Trust me, they will catch those people.”

“Our one other condition is even more difficult. We believe you to be a rational, ethical, psychologically sound human being. You know our work against terrorism and our work helping out during disasters. The people that we are going to be transporting back and forth doing the work that we cannot, must be of the same caliber.”

I said, “Sir, it may not be surprising that I can jump. After all, my father was the first jumper on the planet, and my mother the second.” I paused a long moment, looking in his eyes. “They are not related.”

Dad and I saw the realization hit him. This man had sat and taken so many things so silently. He had a genius IQ, integrity, and character. Now he knew fear. He said slowly, “This thing is not genetic. It can be learned.”

The Directeur said two more things before we left. They were, “I will help you.” And, “Call me Jules.”


	4. Chapter 4

Three months later….

Cent

I was strapped into my bunk of the good ship Protagonist in my modified spacesuit, upside down facing the floor and the face of our pilot, Estavan Leocadio Espino, which had long been reduced to Steve by my father and I. The official language of the project was English, thank goodness. I can speak French and German, and was working on Spanish, and Mom and Dad have always stressed the importance of multilingualism for obvious reasons… but it’s not where my best talents lie.

We were set up on a Launchpad ELA 2 in the French Guiana Space Centre 42 klicks from the main control center. The pad itself had been decommissioned in 2003 and the service tower actually demolished with explosives, but for all 30 feet by 20 feet of Protagonist we didn’t need a tower, or an APU, or the thousand other things that most launches need to be successful. We did have a corner of the control center set up for us, manned mostly with those that Jules’ rigid screening process had passed, but there were three positions that he considered essential that had to be manned by existing control personnel. Our little band of explorers had only expanded to 52 people thus far, mostly in assembly and security. We knew we would have to expand further later on, but our security concerns were SO exhausting.

Well for most people. Dad or I showed up dead center in the warehouse the project was using every day at 8 am for the morning organizational meeting and generally stayed for around 10 hours. In that time, we sat for tests, met with engineers, or did some transporting of vital components from vendors. It was boring and exciting at the same time. Jules’ wonderful skills allowed everyone to cross-pollinate ideas at a dead run, and the money we spent was miniscule compared to an actual spacecraft launch. Jules tucked half of it into his budget and Dad supplied the rest. After the first flight, Jules had plans to present to the ESA board. We didn’t think there would be any funding issues after that.

We had to give up one of Joes’ dreams right away, darn it. He had been so excited to set up at L5, but Jules put his foot down immediately. The L5 society from last century had big dreams about setting up habitats there, but every recent discovery about solar and cosmic ray radiation meant we had to keep an orbit like the International Space Station, within the protective magnetic belts of Earth. None of the Earth-Moon Lagrange points were safe for long term use.

Testing had also changed how I thought I would be pulling the capsule. I had thought that I was going to be upright like Superman, diving into the sky. It turned out that was a great way to get a migraine. The engineers had adapted it such that I was going to fall into the sky backwards, with all the surface area of my back, legs and arms lending thrust to the Protagonist (they let me name it, squee!). It took a lot of practice to imagine thrusting into the sky like that, but Dad and I set to it, and we could both keep it up for hours, if need be. 

One of the best serendipity moments was when Dad discovered he could combine his doubling water trick with my impulse vectors. I made him walk me through it right away and it meant that there would be a much smoother ride, not as hard on me and Steve. No headaches from micro-concussions, hopefully.

I was so disappointed that Joe couldn’t go on the launch. It was our dream together, and me starting without him just felt crappy. We consoled ourselves that he would be the third in space using our ‘drive’. He had been in training alongside the other ESA specialists that Jules had recruited, learning how to work in space conditions and assemble all the junk that we were going to bring up there.

So Steve and I waited in the capsule, checking over everything on our checklist. We made sure of our most important item, the box I had taken to calling the Guide Dog. It was a small 3D screen that swung around to right in front of my face that had a large dot that floated around in it. Steve would have control of it from his position with all the real navigation and communication equipment he needed; stripped down to as little weight as possible. After this flight, weight was no longer much of a consideration, but we had to get into orbit first.

Jules and the control team were in position. The existing staff had been told that this was an exciting experiment in quantum tunneling, which is why a decommissioned pad was being used. They had been told that there was a possibility that the test craft could launch, but it was remote. I was hoping like hell everything was going to go according to plan. There was an emergency evac plan depending on the instant release of mine and Steve’s straps and some fast jumping. I prayed that they wouldn’t be used.

Dad and Mom both were in the control room. Dad was there ostensibly as a consultant, and stood next to Jules most of the time. I knew Mom had been jumped there before and was in disguise as a secure observer. Mom was our hole card for the entire endeavor. After hours, Dad and I would jump Mom to any site we were working to make sure she had a jump site for it. We had learned the hard way how important it was to have one of us free to rescue us if things went wrong.

Dad had a private line to my ear, and had been giving me a running commentary on events in the control center. He broke that off and said, “It looks like Jules is about ready, sweetheart. He says that we’ll start the countdown in three minutes. You ready?”

“I am SO ready. Let’s light this candle!” We both laughed. We had watched ‘The Right Stuff’ the night before and loved it. There would be no candle-lighting this time though. I imagined how it would look to an outside observer and laughed harder.

When listening to a launch count from the outside, it sounds so slow… not like it is from within! I was looking at the Dog, biting my lip and each number seemed to come faster and faster. “Three, Two, One… Ignition!” We had agreed on that terminology, even though there wasn't going to be any fire. Tradition.

I started adding thrust lightly, straight up, to settle my body into the couch above me. At that light thrust, I began to add that constant touch, to get my mind in the groove and used to overlapping jumps, a quarter second or less from each other. Once that had set in, I started adding 20 feet per second increases until an amber light turned on the side of the Dog. We had lifted off! 

The most dangerous moment of any space flight is that second of lift off. Since rockets got all of their thrust from the bottom, it took exquisite control to keep it all balanced. Because I was lifting the capsule above the center of gravity, we didn't have nearly as much anticipated trouble, just like a front wheel drive car, but I added another 40 feet per second right after liftoff to be sure. The Dog was still showing a straight up line, so I started to really apply myself.

Davey and Millie 

Davey was incredibly nervous and trying not to show it. There had been an explosion of activity in the control center when the screen had shown the completely silent rise of the Protagonist, with a constant stream of oaths in French from the three non-project controllers at the sight. From where he stood, the capsule had slowly risen shortly after the countdown, then rapidly ascended like a balloon. It was like magic. He looked back at Millie, wearing her red wig and a dark hat, and saw that she had removed the sunglasses and was crying, staring at the main view screen. She looked at him, and he shook crossed fingers and arms at her.

Jules was standing up and yelling triumphantly, shaking his fists overhead like a prizefighter. One of the controllers yelled something about minor instability, and he waved him back to his screen, assuring the man that is was to be expected. There was a projected track on the large overhead screen, and to Davey’s untrained eye the dot representing his daughter looked to be accelerating just below it.

Cent

I was focused intently, trying to keep the thrust as centered and steady as I could. Steve had stopped me at about 120 miles an hour, but that was just the impulse that my body experienced, I didn't know how fast it was pushing the capsule. The dot in the Dog moved slowly in one direction, then another, and I followed it with my eyes and will. There were three windows in the capsule, and I could see with my peripheral vision that the quality of the sunlight had changed slowly, gotten more glaring. Steve was in my ear saying, “Ok, Cent, you’re doing great. Should be another half hour to parking orbit.” I nodded, forgetting that he couldn't see me, stuck in that weird kind of floating feeling when using the constant reflex trick.

Honestly, the only problem we had was when we were straying too close to some kind of logged space junk. Steve guided me to pass behind it and it was gone. He had me back off to 50 feet per second as we entered our planned orbit, then I got the shutoff sign on the Dog.

I closed my eyes and just floated then. It wasn’t absolute; Steve was in contact with Ground control and making minor course corrections with the small attitude jets on the sides of the craft. But damn, it was fine! I had no problems with queasy tummy (I shouldn't, not with all the Dramamine they had me take) and couldn't wait to get the rest of my family out here!

Have I forgotten something? How about the paintjob of the good ship Protagonist! On one wall there was a huge number 1 in a circle surrounded with sparkles and rainbows. The other side had the name of the ship in a beautiful font, and there were woodland scenes everywhere else. The paint scheme was duplicated on the outside. This, along with the memory of the sandalwood incense that had burned here made this a great jump site to remember. If jumping from orbit worked at all.

Steve confirmed nominal orbit insertion and we unlatched from our couches. After some great sightseeing, he confirmed our air pressure in the capsule and the suits, and I put my arms around him for the Nairobi jump.

One of the hardest things to adjust for the engineers of the project was sudden changes in pressure for the suits we were using. The atmosphere at sea level is 14.7 psi, and to go suddenly from that to vacuum would make any standard space suit explode. I wouldn't like that, being inside one. The scheme we had come up with was to either jump from vacuum to vacuum or as close to suit pressure as possible. Suits used to spacewalk at the ISS used 4.7 psi, but that required up to ten hours to prepare for in a separate chamber to avoid high altitude bends.

The jump suits were tanks. They were intended to keep the high oxygen psi inside up to 11, and were hard as hell to maneuver in. They looked more like robots than spacesuits, and it was a miracle that they had been made at all. We were intended to jump to and from like atmospheres in them, and a closely guarded warehouse in Nairobi had been set up, the altitude of that city registering about 12.2 psi. Jules had arraigned that warehouse for now because of the city elevation and access to the sea for shipping, for things that were too big for Dad or I to jump. It would change in the future when we were advanced enough in our planning to pressurize the planned station to one standard atmosphere.

We got the OK from ground control and jumped.

The warehouse facility seemed ultra-bright next to the low lights of the capsule, and the suits popped loudly when we appeared. I let Steve go and we both sat back heavily on the special couches. It was then that I unashamedly used my ability and jumped straight out of the suit to the floor beside me, standing in my sock feet and Under Armour. I grinned at Steve as the techies swarmed around him, slowly removing the suit.

I hugged him when he was clear, and he said softly, “You did it. Mierda! WE did it!” I shook my head slowly, still grinning, and said, “Step one. Lots to go”


	5. Chapter 5

Cent

And then, Oh Lord, wasn't there a clamor.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, please, I have a statement to read before answering your questions.” Jules looked centered and relaxed after the excitement of the day, the subtitles flowing beneath his face at his press conference. Joe and I watched him on a big screen TV set high on the wall of an apartment clubhouse in Orlando. I knew it from Disney trips I had taken, and sure enough it was empty as usual.

“As you know, there was a test of a new propulsion concept today at the main ESA launch facility at French Guiana. Liftoff of the ‘Protagonist’, our test vehicle, was at 1:02 local from pad number two, and save for the nature of the drive itself, was otherwise uneventful. This flight, while under the nominal governance of the ESA, was a joint partnership between the inventor of the process and Biology Directorate. The inventor has guaranteed the continued availability of his drive to the ESA, but has made it clear that details of its makeup, equipment, and theory must remain privileged information for the foreseeable future. The inventor, furthermore, has asked me to be the project head, and has convinced me that he will not proceed unless I remain so. He assures me that he means no disrespect to the General-Director or any part of the European Space Agency, but his will is adamant on this subject.”

“I will continue to plan and organize missions with this individual for the sake of the drive he has provided us. Many countries were able to ascertain some details of the liftoff; no reaction mass was used, no pollutants were released, and the cost of payloads from ground to orbit is effectively zero. When you consider the average price of putting a 180 pound man into orbit is nearly one and a half million Euros, I think that it is worth a little mystery. I will now answer what questions I can.”

I turned to Joe and kissed him slowly and thoroughly. When we broke away, I put my head on his chest and purred. “Can’t wait to take you up. It’s… so incredible.”

He laid his head back and stroked my hair. “I need to prove myself with these people, Hun. All of the ones on the approved list for space have a background that supports it. I’m an eighteen year old American with a big nose who got in because his invisible girlfriend makes it all possible.” The TV was still loud in the background, crowding the air with questions from reporters. I ignored it while assuring Joe that he was in on the ground floor, that most of it was his idea, and dammit, I’d never have had the courage to brace Dad about it without him.

“And besides,” I finished, “you start your real work tomorrow. No one will be looking down on you after you start hammering and soldering everything together along with the other guys. And in the meantime… let’s hit space mountain again.” I stood him up, but just before I jumped us, I heard from the TV the question I had been waiting for. I stopped to listen.

“Director, why did this inventor come to the ESA? There are five agencies cooperating in the assembly of the ISS, including NASA, why come to the ESA? Is the inventor French?”

Jules removed his glasses slowly and looked at the reporter like a sad grandfather. He said gravely, “That matter was exclusively a problem of trust, I’m afraid. The inventor does not trust Americans and refuses to work with NASA unless some conditions are fulfilled. And I am not at liberty to discuss those conditions at this time.” Jules remained still as first shock, then an outbreak of fresh questions flooded the room. I picked up the remote and shut off the monitor.

“That will set the cat amongst the pigeons, methinks.” I said, grinning. “I’ll bet he gets a cartload of meeting requests tomorrow. Dad has a pile of notes for him when he does meet with U.S. representatives. I wonder how high up the ladder they will be?”

The next morning, Joe, Dad and I appeared at the Nairobi facility all set to go. We split up from each other and began the slow process of donning our suits. Three other spacewalkers were standing by already suited up so the techs could help us. My suit had been modified yesterday from the lighter version for the liftoff into the ‘bells and whistles’ version that was intended for the main work Dad and I would do. It WAS heavier. The suits that the ISS astronauts use are around 300 pounds on earth. The hard shell suits that we had bought on the sly were a metal composite that came in on a whopping 350 pounds.

We wanted to keep with the hard shells because they could maintain the psi high enough to not require that long time in a hyperbaric decompression chamber. The bends are no joke; you can die in exquisite agony. They also had a ‘stiffen up’ option that we had had modified into them. But this didn't mean I was going to be Riverdancing in them, nonono. I could barely take a step and was advised not to try.

Once we were suited up, standing and waiting for the go order, Control confirmed telemetry in the capsule as 13 psi and gave it. I pictured the inside of the capsule, the woodland scenes, the memory of sandalwood and all, and jumped. The capsule was just as I left it. Control had turned the lights back on so I could see my jump site, and the weightlessness was wonderful.

I jumped back to Earth (weird phrase that, but I’ll get used to it!) to the top of the Stand and announced that I was ready for my Dad. The techs helped him shuffle over and he and I did the slow little dance that placed the paddle hooks on our torsos together.

I have to explain something here. How much weight we can jump has always been some kind of component of how much we can lift. There seem to be some variables there, I had no problem either thinking of the suit as part of my clothes and should go with me, or thinking of it as something alien and I can jump out of it. But as for jumping someone else? They need to be off the ground, even for a split second, for me to transport them anywhere. And how is anyone going to pick up another human being, wearing a suit that heavy, when we are already wearing one? 125 + 180 + 350 + 350 = oh my god, get off my foot. But if we were in free fall? No problem.

The Stand is a steel platform 20 feet high with open elevators on two sides and a very special floor. Dad and I stood in the center hugging each other through layers of steel and composites and I said, “Release.” The floor was a trapdoor that abruptly wasn't there. In a hair over one second, we would be striking the floor like a thousand pound hammer.

Except, of course, we were gone.

Dad reacquainted himself with the interior of the Protagonist and made sure he could jump between it and the Nairobi facility. Then I brought up Joe! We floated around and giggled. It seemed so unreal! I spent ten minutes up there with him before reluctantly leaving him and turning the project over to Dad for the day.

Once I had convinced Dad to help me with the project, we recognized that I would be overworked and burnt out if I had to show up and do a shift every day. Right now we had it scheduled so that Dad and I worked every other day for 10 hour shifts. I took this day off to relax, sunbathing at Big Sur and following a rumor of good waves off of Queensland. I jumped back to the cabin about 2pm and after a good shower, lunched with Mom in New York. There was hole-in-the-wok place that had a great seaweed salad that went with the tempura wonderfully. 

“I’ve given all of our information on ‘them’ to Becca, now.” She said. She picked at her rice ball, but didn't seem very hungry. “She says that she has some great leads to with which to relaunch the investigation when she gets the go ahead from her bosses. I guess we have to wait for Jules to unleash the hounds for that. Your father doesn’t have as much faith in that plan as he pretends too, Cent. He’s been burned almost as much by the government as by ‘them’, back when the NSA kidnapped me.”

I was wolfing my food down fast enough for both of us (surfing is calorie intensive!), but between bites I asked, “Is she going to email you when and if she gets that call?”

“Yes. But another reason I’m worried is that… well, Becca really wants to nail these people, but she’s put off retirement already to pursue this. The investigation is liable to be huge, lasting years.” She picked at her meal a bit more then shoved it over to me to finish. “I guess all I can do is trust her judgment about what she can handle. She’s a professional and has a real bias against these people. I don’t think our problems could be in better hands, her age notwithstanding.”

I paused my chopsticks for a moment, the sighed and brought up my favorite subject. “Mom, about Joe… We've been able to dodge around his parents this summer, but he’s really spending a lot of time on the project, not to mention with me. He’s really hard up inside about lying to them about where he is and what he’s doing. He thinks that they would be extremely happy about what he’s doing if we told them the truth, and they would understand the danger. His father was a major in the army and saw action. Is there a way we can convince Dad to go along with it?”

Mom smiled widely. “I’m actually ahead of you on something! I’ve been discussing that very matter with Davy. I've been pointing out all that missing time of Joe’s and also that, although I know that you two are taking every precaution up there, a chance of danger still exists. We both think it unfair of us to expose him to that chance without his parents knowing. I’ll check with your father, but if you want to set up a meeting with his parents, it shouldn’t present a problem.”

I squealed and leapt out of my chair to give her a huge hug and kiss. It really is wonderful sometimes how well she knows me.

When Dad and Joe appeared in the cabin living room, Mom and I both were in bikinis, holding male swim trunks in our hands. Joe laughed first, then kissed me and took the trunks upstairs to change. Ten minutes later, we were all in the Jacuzzi, thinking warm, relaxing thoughts. It was snowing lightly, which always feels so decadent in these situations. Dad wasn't hungry, but Joe made several little cracker/cheese/salami sandwiches from the sideboard. Mom then brought up the matter of Joe's’ parents and proved that she had been working on Dad when he said that it was okay right away. It was Joe that leapt up that time and hugged Mom, then turning to Dad, shaking his hand and saying, “Thank you, sir.” Over and over.

“’Twere well it were done quickly.” Mom said. “What are they doing tonight?”

______________________________________________________________

It was a perfect demonstration in the trust Joe’s parents had in him that he was able to convince them to climb into their car and go somewhere unknown with him without an explanation. At 10:30 pm. They pulled up outside the ugly motel cabin we had rented for the purpose and Joe led them to the door. I answered it with the biggest smile I could manage and said, “Mr. and Mrs. Trujeque? Hi! I’m Cent. Can I ask you to meet my parents, the Rices?” And we were off.

Joe and I explained it all up to the point where we had to prove how we could jump. Dad suggested we move the meeting somewhere nicer, looked at his watch and recommended Hawaii. I said, “Perfect. Blind Eye pub?” He nodded. I turned to Joe and his parents and asked them to turn their cell phones off. Joe did at once and convinced his parents to do likewise. They were wide eyed already, and got more so when I moved to Joe and said to them, “I’m going to take Joe to North Shore beach in Oahu. If you don’t mind, my mom and dad are going to bring you too. I’ll say the same thing to you that I first said to Joe; you are NOT going crazy.” I hugged Joe then and jumped us to my site behind the pub.

Everyone else appeared a couple of minutes later. Mrs. Trujeque fell to her knees in the sand and Dad helped her up. I led all of us around to the front and we sat at table under a thatch cabana. Mom caught a waitress and ordered some water for everyone and a pitcher of margaritas. When we settled back with age appropriate drinks, Joe and I talked again and told them everything. It was cathartic because we had been lying to them about Joe’s whereabouts so much. I kept apologizing all over myself trying to get them to understand our constraints. At the end of it, I pulled out my Ipod and showed them some video of Joe and I floating around inside the Protagonist. It was a convincer, and looked great in the light of the Oahu sunset. Dad took over the conversation and gave the warnings about how we needed secrecy. 

Finally Joe said, “I know we've been untruthful, but we thought it was for the best of reasons. I am still going to college, I’ll keep up my full class load… but what I’m doing up there will be my college job. I’m pretty sure it’ll look good on a resume.” Joes’ dad looked at us and asked, “What are you doing up there? You've launched something weird, I know. What are your plans?”

I looked at him, grinning like a madwoman and said, “Space Station Pegasus.”


	6. Chapter 6

Cent

The next day, after Joe and I got off duty, Jules had handed a DVD to me and said with a smile, “I think your father will enjoy this a great deal.”

So the four of us, Mom, Dad, Joe and myself, were sitting in front of the television that night in the front room with gourmet popcorn and lemonade while Dad inserted it into the player. The image formed of the interior of a generic board room with Jules and another man sitting on the right side (to us) of a wide table. They looked up from talking quietly to each other and rose to greet three other men approaching from the left side who extended their hands and introduced themselves.

Jules presented his guest as his solicitor, whose name I didn’t catch. The three men on the other side of the table were Americans; Thomas Salmon, the Undersecretary of State, Charles F. Bolden, Jr., the Nasa Administrator, and another lawyer I didn't catch the name of. Sue me, I’d watched too many movies to like lawyers.

There were pleasantries, coffee and cookies were served, then the meeting began. Mr. Bolden began by congratulating Jules on a successful launch. “It was like watching a movie with the sound off, sir.” He said, shaking his head. He honestly looked a little shaken, and this was a man who had flown over 100 combat missions in Southeast Asia and four trips in the Shuttle. “If we hadn't gotten reliable reports from the field, I would have believed that you had a deal with Lucasfilm.”

Mr. Salmon cleared his throat and stated sternly, “You made some fairly inflammatory statements the other day, Directeur, and we need to have them… clarified. You accused the American Government of some unspecified heinous things on the world stage set by your accomplishment. Never mind that we are apparently being locked out of one of the greatest advancements in the modern age by the whim of one man; you perpetuated this insanity by broadcasting it to every corner of the Earth! What rational man does that? The United States has constantly supported the ISS missions, NASA has lent every technical expert, every lesson learned to our joint efforts and massive amounts of money, and then THIS comes along and you accept the word of some unknown crazy over a nation that has been your friend for years!” Salmon was masterful; this monologue started low and slow, gained power and momentum until the last sentence was an outraged shout.

Jules and his lawyer were calm in the face of this bluster. The lawyer put his briefcase on the table and withdrew a single sheet of paper and gave it to Jules. “I cannot dictate terms to you, monsieur, nor can the inventor of this process. However, he has asked me to tell you that most of your answers can be found here.” Jules slid the paper forward and tapped it firmly. I couldn't read it from the camera angle, but I knew that it said ‘Special Agent Rebecca Martingale’ with her duty station and phone number.

Jules continued, “I don’t know what instructions you have been given, Mr. Salmon, but I have been given mine. Your country is deemed too dangerous to be allowed access until you have rooted out the evil in your midst. You must also prove it to the world that you have done so completely. My friend also says that he suspects that tendrils of this organization reach into other governments and that they have agents in place all over the world. He asks that you pursue and harry them wherever they might be, and cooperate with foreign nations in order to do so. He assures me that these are not the ravings of a madman; he has personally been hunted and persecuted by these villains along with his family, friends and even chance acquaintances.”

The NASA head spoke up again. “Sir, you are holding us hostage to what seems a, a… fantasy. You've demanded that we prove the existence of a shadow organization that frankly, can’t exist in today’s climate. We cannot be held accountable to this insanity!”

“The ESA and I hold no one accountable. We hold no one hostage. The terms of your participation have been set before you by the inventor and will not be changed. I urge you to catch these criminals and prosecute them all, root and branch, so that we can once again share in the fruits of our research. The inventor does not hate America; indeed, I have been authorized to tell you that he IS an American. But he said to me, “Until the weasels are cleared from the henhouse, we will not be buying any chickens.” Unless you take action, your country will simply be… left behind.”

He gestured towards Mr. Bolden. “If I’m not very mistaken, you have something to ask me further, monsieur.”

The NASA administrator glanced at the Undersecretary nervously and produced some 8 x 10 photos and passed them to Jules. “Sir, we've been keeping track of your test vehicle and have some questions. There appears to be some activity outside the craft, some… construction that we can’t explain. Can you clarify what is happening?”

Jules smiled widely. “Of course, my friend. What you see is the beginnings of Pegasus Station, the first truly independent base in orbit. The first module should be completed within the week.” Jules and his companion rose to leave. He pointed at the sheet on the table and said, “Answers lie there. So does America’s future in space.” They left, and the video ended.

Dad held down the master power button, and the video equipment all turned off. He looked troubled. I asked, “What’s the matter? Isn't this what we wanted, to sic the hounds onto the bad guys?”

He put down the remote and steepled his fingers in front of his face, tapping his lips with his forefingers. “That was the plan, but we've turned the tiger loose. All we can do now is hang onto the tail and hope it does what we want. I’m going to talk to Jules about increasing security tomorrow. I think that there’s a chance that the reaction to today might be an all-out intelligence assault on the project. The US government isn’t used to being called out and ordered around. Our best hope is that they will talk to Becca and get busy, but I can’t predict what they’ll do. Or what the Black Hats will do from within the Administration, or wherever they have their influence.”

We all went silent at that. Then we got up, fixed some supper, and life went on.

Two days later it was my shift again. I picked up Joe from New Prospect and jumped us to Nairobi for the morning meeting. Jules joined us over a secure VoIP line and we thanked him for the video. He smiled his open, sun-coming-out smile and said, “I received a phone call from the Vice-President of the United States last night. They wanted to put me on a charter to come to Washington to discuss this impasse. I told them there was nothing to discuss, we both had all the information we needed and until they started publishing results, there would be no need for further face-to-face.”

I laughed, and with an arm around Joe said, “I’m your fan! I wonder how often they are turned down like that?”

Jules shrugged. “It does not matter. We have a job to do, so do they. We know that they will be looking very hard at our construction; my engineers say that they will have enough information now to estimate the size of the first module. That alone might be enough to convince them to help you. The largest module that the ISS uses is the Kibo, built by the Japanese Aerospace Exploration Agency, JAXA. It’s a rectangular box around 37 feet by 15 feet. Our first module is sphere 52 feet in diameter with nearly ten times the usable volume inside.”

I knew all this. I was there when the question was asked the projects’ engineers, “What if the cost of putting materials into orbit wasn't a factor? What would your dream material be?” It turned out that instead of the aluminum used by the ISS, we were building the Pegasus from layered and bonded stainless steel, waffled to make the skin even stronger. It allowed us to build on a much larger scale than any space vehicle in history. Dad and I were bringing into orbit endless panels and connectors to build the geodesic sphere of the module, connecting them via a small bungee cord to a preplanned location on either the Protagonist or the developing module, ready to put together. The three person teams assembling the huge thing were getting faster, now that they had practice in the suits and with working together.

The team concept extended all the way to Nairobi. So far, Sean Cooper, one of only four brits brought onto the team had been the controller throughout, and he had two others as backup observing the work and advising the assemblers via six different camera locations.

Jules had some other news. “I’m going to be meeting with the General-Director and the General Board today in Paris. I hope it proceeds well; I’m still their employee, you know!”  
I wished him luck and asked, “How are we doing with the vendors? Will we have enough parts ready to start a second module after this one is done?”

“No. And yes, that is part of the proposal I will be presenting the board. I will encourage them to help us accelerate construction. We will also need more suits, more security personnel, and will need to quicken the selection process for our working cadre. Of the time you and your father give us each day, we woefully underuse you.” 

“Um, yes. Thanks for setting up Netflix in the vacuum room, Jules.” I said ruefully.

Sean said from behind me, “And on that note… let’s get you guys suited up.”

Another first happened later that day; the flare detector set up in the nose of Protagonist went off. I heard the alert and the assistant in the vacuum room hurried over and unplugged the power and air feed into my suit. As soon as I got clearance from Sean, I jumped upstairs to the outside of Protagonist and got my bearings to the module construction site 20 yards east. I yelled on the work channel, “I’m on the ship and see two of you, who’s missing?”

Steve answered calmly, “I’m inside the curve of the sphere. Take Joe and Simon down and I’ll be out by then.”

“Wilco.” I jumped to the back of the nearest suit, saw that it was Simon by the label and put my arms as far around the bulbous torso as I could reach. I tapped my toes against the back of his calves to ensure we didn't land with him on top of my feet and jumped us back to the vacuum room with him standing on the conveyor belt into the airlock. As soon as I saw it moving, I pictured the half-constructed sphere and jumped back.

My heart was racing, even though I knew we had at a minimum 15 minutes to get clear. We had three ways to detect flares, the detector on the ship, the live feed from the ISS, and a flare detection service on Twitter, believe it or not. This was the first we had had since our launch. The radiation shielding had not yet been assembled, or it would not have been such a big deal.

I jumped to Joe, hugged him tight the same way and got him to the conveyor. Simon was in the lock, so Joe wasn't moving yet. I asked Sean if the Stand’s floor was up and locked. When he confirmed that it was, I jumped back upstairs outside the module and saw that Steve wasn't out yet.

“I’m still attaching tools to the bungees. Give me a minute.”

The suit I was wearing had active polarization. The sun, instead of being constantly ultra-blinding, was a dark spot I couldn't see through. Somehow, this made the thought of it spewing out a tendril of plasma and radiation worse, as if it were a ghost trying to infect you with some sparkling, deadly acid.

Steve finally maneuvered out of the sphere and I jumped over to him, turned him around so that I was against his back, and jumped to the top of the stand. We waited until Joe was behind the airlock door, then I told Sean to release the Stand floor and I jumped us both to the conveyor. I gripped the handrail hard, getting to support the weight of my suit with my arms as well as my hips and shoulders. Standing up in the damn thing was a pain.

Once we were cycled through, I jumped to the couch, and then out of the suit. I sat down beside the suit heavily, grateful not to be moving.

Sean came over from the control center in the corner and bent over to look at me, hands on his knees. “I’m going to recommend something, Cent. You can’t get around the fact that you’re throwing around a lot of weight when you do these stunts. You’re only about 130 pounds. We need you to muscle up so you don’t hurt yourself. If you’ll agree, I’ll add a personal training area and assign someone to you to help.”

I looked up at him. “Well, Dad and I told Jules that we’d carry Mankind to the stars on our backs. I guess I need to be able to lift Him.”


	7. Chapter 7

Joe

The Trujeque house, a largish light blue ranch style home with a detached garage and crowded with pines in the backyard, was only occupied by his father when Cent dropped Joe off. His bedroom had become a jump site for her by default in the days that they had been hiding Joes’ activities from his parents, and Cent had said that she thought that had caused it to be quite a bit cleaner than most teen boy bedrooms. She apparently thought it was cute.

But Joe was did not altogether fit the mold of the ‘hang loose, party on, dude’ snowboarder that she had assumed he had been. He had been a straight A student and captain of the snowboard team, organizing people and resources effortlessly. 

Then Cent had entered his life. She was beautiful, brilliant, read the same books and seemed to return his feelings like a perfect mirror. He fell in love with her faster than he would have believed, enjoyed every moment with her.

Then he found out she was superhuman.

Her family didn't think of it that way. They had an ability; it was wonderful and all, but it made them the target of some secret society that wanted them to either work for them or die. If what they could do became general knowledge, who knew how many others would want the same? Smugglers, terrorists, military, corporations, all the way to vacationers would want a piece of the jumper action. Three people in all the world, out of seven point something billion people could do this amazing thing. And it painted targets on each and every one of this family he had grown to love.

Joe sat on his bed a long time after Cent left him with a lingering kiss. She said she was going to put in some time organizing the warehouse her mother used to store emergency supplies for humanitarian catastrophes. Joe couldn't imagine what it was like to travel the world constantly, only to dive into the very worst parts of it to help. It was the ethos of Mrs. Harrison-Rice, a woman that was determined to use her ability to help the most in need of her help, who couldn't see her extended family without extreme disguises and distractions. 

Cents’ father was another case of doing well by way of doing good. He had been kidnapped, tortured and brainwashed by the people that were after him and yet he persisted in helping his wife aid others and being the best father he could possibly be. He had overcome his terror of being caught by the genuine evil that pursued them enough to not only participate in Joes’ harebrained scheme of spaceflight but to allow his only child to do so. And there was no doubt at all about how much he loved his daughter and wanted to keep her safe. 

It seemed to rest on safety, this thing that was unsettling Joe. He had talked Cent into this madness that had her and her father exposed, and the only thing that might keep them safe were the security procedures and personality tests of someone that they barely knew. But now, there was a different kind of safety that concerned him, the hazards of space itself. He himself was beyond excited to be part of the teams working on the station… but there was nothing special about him except whom he knew. Risking the singular talents that the Rice family possessed was… well, was it a sin? It was like betting on something with the stakes being the last three lions in the world. The loss of any of them would be that much greater a tragedy for their unique quality, one that may in the end be irreplaceable. 

Ah, but the bet… Joe had always been a dreamer, reading his books and watching his movies. He could put himself on other worlds as easily as cross the street and the desire to do so ached. He had opened up to Cent as a good boyfriend does, and she had taken his half formed ideas and run with them. Now… she was committed. At 17, his girl had dedicated herself to his dream for what was likely the rest of her life. She and her family were the keys to the universe. Joe tried to put himself in her place, to feel the need to do something important for poor old homo sap, and after a moment he remembered something he had read written by Robert Heinlein.

“The Earth is just too small and fragile a basket for the human race to keep all its eggs in.”

Yes, some things are worth the risk. Joe stood up and went to talk to his Dad about it. His parents above all knew about acceptable risk.

Davy

The assembly team was mostly suited up when Davy and Joe appeared a few minutes late. They both hurried to the corner for the morning meeting and Joe was handed his paper with the expected jobs to cover for the day. He went over to the prep area, reading as he went.

Sean asked Davy, “Did Cent fill you in about what happened yesterday?”

“Yeah. She wasn’t frightened, just a little hopped up with excitement. She said the evac went well.”

“It did. She did great, our procedures worked out, I think it was a good shakeup that proved out our safety considerations. Are you up on our follow-up flare process?”

“Not really.”

Sean smiled easily. “It’s not much except ‘Do as much as possible for the next 1 – 5 days’. The leading edge of the flare is the most dangerous time, it could have a large dose of energized protons. Bad for your health. However, the next few days are case of good air pushing out bad air. Heightened flare activity lowers cosmic radiation by about half during that time. I’m not sure why, you can ask an astronomer sometime.”

“How close are we to getting module one completed?”

Sean picked up another clipboard and flipped through the pages. “We’ll get the exterior finished and airlock installed in the next couple of days. Then minimum interior work and the radiation shield… we should have our first pressure test in about a week. After that, the fittings and equipment… we should be ready for overnight occupancy in three weeks. Jules is working on getting us more of everything, but that pre-engineered stuff has to be put in the pipeline to be manufactured and tested before we take possession. It helps that the next three modules are general purpose like module one.”

Davy nodded. “Well, we do have Phase 3 to move onto, if we run out of materials. Get a good site picked out and we can start as soon as the exterior work is done on module 1. Anything more from Jules?”

“He asked for you to get in touch with your FBI contact and see if anything is happening. He’s upped the security around here, I know you don’t have to go through it, but believe me that it’s taking longer for me to get in here through the layers of armed men in camo.”

“Good.” Davy thought a moment and said, “Please ask him if there’s anywhere Cent and I shouldn't jump. I don’t want to go somewhere that he hasn't seen to yet.”

Sean nodded and Davy jumped to the prep area to get suited.

Cent

I started my workouts with my trainer the next day. I’m no wimp; I snowboard and ski, and Joe has been teaching me skateboarding, but I’ve never really had scheduled and controlled workouts before. Sean had found a man on the security detail with a Pennsylvania trainer certificate named Pete Norman, and he sized me up when I appeared in the incoming jump site area inside the warehouse.

Sean walked over and said, “Your Dad’s done with the morning drop offs and is in the vacuum room now. I think he’s watching West Wing reruns.” He turned to the man with the crossed arms while I stifled a laugh and introduced Pete and I to each other.

I got to know Pete very quickly. It’s easy to do when that person is constantly talking to you, critiquing your form, asking for “One more, one more…”. I’ve seen films that cover basic military training like Platoon, and Pete never yelled at me or called me names; but he never let up, either. I was moving constantly from one exercise to the next and had to quit after 20 minutes. Pete wrote numbers in a notebook he had, shook my hand and asked to see me at the same time in two days.

I jumped to the lodge and took a shower and a nap. Ugh.

Millie

Special Agent Martingale pulled into the Starbucks, wrapped her coat around the back of a chair and took her purse to the counter to get her latte. When she came back to her empty table, she noticed that the coat was draped differently than she had left it. Sitting, she casually felt the inside pocket and found a packet in it. She pulled it out and read her name on the cover with an italicized M in the addresser slot.

When she reached her office, she locked the door and opened the envelope. There was an inexpensive cell phone inside with a half page note.

“Becca, Millie here. This phone will only work from the cell phone tower nearest the place you found it. It has the best encryption we could find.

“We are very grateful that you are staying on to help with our mutual problem. We realize that you may have need of us for one reason or another to advance the investigation, or you might have information to pass to us. The third number in the contact list will connect with our dedicated phone. I will check for messages daily around 2pm. We would be appreciative of anything you feel you can pass along; it would help with the timing of our operations… upstairs.

“There is a message waiting; it’ll provide my bona fides. One thing we are eager to know; are you in charge, or are they just using you as a resource? We were hoping you would be the one holding the whip when it comes to this bust.

“In the meantime, the next coffee is on me, and don’t take any wooden sugar packets.”

Becca turned the note over and pulled the tape off of the ten dollar bill, smiling.

That night, Millie made comfort food; matzo ball soup and crusted lamb chops. Dessert was a lightly sweetened fruit salad, and good catching up conversation.

Millie had gotten a voice mail from Becca; the agent was second in command to a tiger of an investigator that she respected. She seemed happy about it, and even happier that the NSA and the CIA were involved in a subsidiary role so there would (hopefully) be a minimum of interdepartmental fighting. The orders had come down from the State department; they were to proceed with all haste and any toes that needed to be stepped on were to be mashed flat.

The upper floors of the Rhiarti building that Davy had tracked the Daarkon group to had been trashed and emptied, with few clues leading to the mysterious ‘retreat’ he had heard mentioned. “A couple of bright spots, though.” Millie said, looking at her husband, “The gravimeter that you found at the building was traced to a large order of them. The instruments sold back then for around fifteen thousand dollars, and 20 of them were ordered. That created a trail that has Becca happy, and the security men that you overheard knew too much. One apparently talked to his girlfriend and she was pissed when he bugged out. She’s cooperating.”

Millie was quiet a moment, then added softly, “One of the rooms they found had been rigged as an operating theater. More than adequate to implant the vagus nerve stimulators, and the capsule bombs. There’s no proof that was what was happening; but Becca wanted us to know.

Davy had stopped eating and now stood up and walked to the kitchen door, looking out the small window set at eye level. He stood there in silence for a few minutes and turned to face his wife and daughter.

“I’m happy that the government is taking them seriously. I don’t want you to think that I’m not. But I wanted… I thought I needed to get at them myself. I feel cheated somehow. I know in my heart I had more reason to kill Rashid Matar, but I didn't, and I don’t think that I could raid some corporate campground guns blazing… but down deep where I live I do feel cheated.

He sat down again. “But if those bastards get caught, prosecuted and put away, I think I can live with that.”


	8. Chapter 8

Cent

Seven weeks went by, busy weeks of working on the station and getting Phase 3 approved through the ESA. They had some improvements on our plans that actually made sense, and we adopted them when we could. Dad and I were still more or less on the every other day schedule which wasn't too arduous, and the station was three quarters done with the third module.

There was now a semi-permanent residency in the station; a lot of the work got done faster with the more flexible and user friendly soft suits that the ISS used, but they required at least 8 hours in a pressure chamber prebreathing pure oxygen. So eight of the team stayed on board until relieved and Dad and I cycled additional hardsuited personnel through each day.

We had learned some lessons. The plans originally called out for two inches of high density Polyethylene on the inside of the walls for shielding material. After testing, we did the same on the outside of the walls. The density of the stainless steel we were using was causing cosmic particles to break apart and become even more dangerous than the original radiation. The additional layer took care of a good majority of that.

Phase 3 was our code phrase for Mars. The good ship Protagonist had been retrofitted with a radiation shield of its’ own and the outside studded with sensors and cameras of all kinds. We had launched it 12 days ago, with Dad pushing at the padded couch at the tip a lot harder than I had done on takeoff, about 1.3 to 1.7 g’s. We weren’t fighting the Earth’s gravity this time, and were able after five four-hour shifts of twinned thrust to get the capsule up to around 2 million miles an hour.

Unfortunately, Mars position at this time was a hair over 2 astronautical units, or AUs, and we didn't want to wait another four months when the planet would be at its closest. But then, we didn't have to. It wasn't like Dad and I had to stay in the capsule while it was moving; we applied the thrust as needed and then jumped home, letting Protagonist sail to Mars on its’ own. When we reached the halfway point, we flipped the ship end for end and started slowing it down the same way. No huhu.

But now we were at the last point of the trip, and I had jumped Steve with me to help get our ship into orbit. We had slowed down a bit too much, and he used the Guide Dog again to have me add more velocity and inject us into a geosynchronous orbit this time.

We were stationary over the Hellas Impact Basin, the most suggested exploration site that the ESA wanted. There was a remote possibility of liquid water at its depth, and the surface pressure was a whole .17 psi. Nothing you could live on, especially with the atmosphere being 98% co2. It was a start.

I jumped Steve back to control and conferred with Jules, who was there in person for this occasion. So was the General-Director, who as a matter of course had gone through the same rigorous psych screenings the rest of the team had. A team that had grown to 178! And in anticipation of what was going to happen today, the career fields had grown to cover drillers, chemists, hydroponics engineers and others.

We agreed that there was enough time to land, and the assistants prepped the decontamination chamber and fastened sensors and cameras all over the exterior of my hard shell suit. When done, I got the go ahead and jumped to the exterior of Protagonist, sighted the basin and started my run.

I applied a steadily growing velocity downward from the ship orbiting 126 miles from the surface of Mars, building speed until the radar rangefinder said I should free fall. I was up to about 80 miles an hour and I thought that was fast enough going straight down.

The upper atmosphere of Mars starts about 11 kilometers from the surface, as opposed to 7 on Earth. The gravity just isn't strong enough to hold it close and give it the density that Man needed. The sensor my eyes were glued to was the gas detector, constantly letting me know particles per cubic space. 

I talked off and on, my suit radio was connected to the one on the capsule, which was relaying to Earth. I was a little sad; I was going to be the first human being to step on our sister planet, and no one would know for a very long time. Secrets for our own good, so more people wouldn't try to kill Dad and me. Gah.

Right on time, the sensor chimed, and I looked around very carefully, fixing in my mind my position above the planet below. I didn't want my mind to be confusing my relative position when I dared my next stunt.

I jumped in place, killing my velocity. It worked fine; I hung above the surface motionless and then slowly added more velocity until I was going five miles an hour. I kept an eye on the heat buildup and the rangefinder and adjusted my falling speed as needed. We had discussed the use of parachutes on this leg of the journey, but I had assured everyone that I had enough experience with my abilities to safely descend on my own.

The heat never got too bad, although my speed was drifting up over 25 miles an hour in the middle atmosphere. I had to kill my speed twice more as I drifted down, the first time barely fifty feet above the surface. From that height, I looked at the surface carefully, making sure the area was smooth. I killed my speed again at five feet and let myself float to the surface in the .38 gravity like a feather. Well, like a feather on Earth; here it would land alongside a cannonball at the same time in the low pressure air.

I keyed my microphone once more and looked up. Dad and I had worked on this. I cleared my throat and sang softly.

“Mars base one to Earth Control.  
Mars base one to Earth Control.  
I've landed here on Mars, the future’s looking bright  
Mars base one to Earth Control.”

Yes, it’s to the tune of ‘Major Tom’, David Bowie was one of the few intersections where my musical tastes were the same as my parents. If he ended up getting a few bucks from this, I certainly wouldn't mind.

I got out something very low tech then from my front pocket; a large piece of chalk. There were two boulders or some kind of rock formation close to my landing site, and I walked to both of them and drew the symbol for Mars, facing my landing site. In this gravity, my suit and I weighed 182 pounds, so there was none of that bouncing around nonsense you see from the lunar landings. I still felt clumsy from the sheer bulk of the suit, but moving around was nice, compared to how heavy it was on Earth.

I made sure my chest camera was set right and recording, carefully turning around slowly, describing the site so I could jump back to it. One last thing I did was to take several still shots of my boot prints in the sand, the first ones on the planet.

I appeared in the decontamination chamber, then jumped back and forth to the Mars site to make sure I could. About 200 million miles each way, in no time at all. Only quantum physics believes in simultaneity, and Dad was sure that scientists in that field were eager to open up our brains to see how we do it. Screw them, I’m using this brain for now.

Dad, Jules and his boss were at the window of the chamber waving madly and smiling hugely. I waved back and waited for the procedure to begin. I knew that this first decontam would be important; the scientists were eager to get the sand and dust that had jumped with me and test it for anything dangerous. It would determine how much we had to use the chamber in the future. If it was extensive, it would kill some of our bigger and longer range plans.

Anyway, it took an hour this first time to clean and sterilize the suit and chamber, with my starting to tremble from the weight despite the suit locking its knees and hips and me having handholds to help bear the mass. About nine minutes into it, the open mic from the outside picked up my transmission from the Martian landing and there was a tremendous gale of laughter and cheers from the control crew. When I got the green light, I jumped to conveyer belt, let it cycle me through the airlock, then jumped to the landing couch I had used the first day and jumped outside the suit. I wasn’t dripping sweat because of the suits’ excellent air circulation, but I started to as soon as I was out.

I didn't need to stand on my own; Dad was in front of me, picking me up in a wonderful hug that lasted just perfectly long enough, then he handed me to Joe, who did the same, adding kisses and whispers of thanks. And more softly, of love.

The techs were all over the suit, detaching the sensors and cameras carefully, making sure that the data was going to be complete. I was led over to a chair near the control corner and sat down thankfully. There was a prepared debriefing questionnaire that Jules led me through while everything was fresh in my mind. When it was done, Dad said, “I’ll take over for the next few days, hun. Relax, and when you’re ready, we’ll both go.” 

I thanked him and hugged him again and jumped straight to my bedroom at the lodge. I stripped and stumbled into the shower and fell into bed after I dried off. Sleep took me like a hungry dog, and I knew nothing for hours.

I woke in the semi-dark of my room, aware that my eyes were open. I lay there and wondered why. My mind was an empty room with soft music, waiting for someone to come in the door.

I rose then and in the dark, I unerringly moved my hand to the box on top of the chest of drawers and withdrew a thin package. I jumped.

Joe was asleep on his side with most of the covers kicked off, wearing white boxers. I looked down at him for a long time, sorting out my feelings and making sure. Then I knelt beside the bed and gently kissed his forehead, my hand stroking his hair back from his face. He mumbled and I laid my cheek on his, waiting to be noticed. He didn't say anything, but a few minutes later his arm came over my shoulders and pulled me close.

I didn’t know if I was his first, I didn’t ask. He was mine, and my love, and the one thing in the world I needed right now. We were silent as space as I took off my pajamas and got in bed as he scooted over. We touched and stroked and explored, and when I was atop him I forgot about firsts and jumping and flying like Superman. I was flying like a bird now, swooping and stalling and striving in air like an ocean, with bright fish behind my closed eyes as I moved.

I felt warm and loved, after. I laid on top of him with my whole body, my skin hungry for his. I hadn't climaxed this time, but I felt I really didn't need to. There would be other times, and lots of happy practice.

He murmured quietly and I put my ear to his lips. He repeated, “Why tonight?”

“Why not? You complaining?”

“No Ma’am. But I know you, sweetheart. You have a reason for everything.”

I took one of his hands and wrapped it tightly within both of mine. “Some things just follow others. A time and place. I just woke up and knew this was my time, and this was my place. Don’t ask for more from my brain, it checked out when I saw you sleeping.”

His other hand was stroking me again. “Millicent Harrison-Rice, I love you. I have for a long time, and if you’re willing, I will for a long time to come. Thanks for making me part of your extraordinary life.”

“Back at you, dude. I wouldn't have stepped out and up without you, I've told you that.”

“And I don’t believe it. I can’t conceive of anything you will not accomplish if you decide you want to do it.”

“I’ll accept that for now.” I disappeared from his arms and second later was at his bedside again. “Meantime, you can put another one of these on. I’m not through with you tonight.”


	9. Chapter 9

Cent

Forty years later, and I’m still not done with him.

Joe and I live our life on a schedule that keeps the bases, outposts and floating labs alive throughout the solar system. He’s joined us in this jumping fraternity, as have 92 others, all men, women and children of healthy minds and hearts, dedicated to helping the race achieve more of our potential every year.

We gain anywhere from one to four new jumpers a year who makes the breakthrough and learns the first lesson; that for every one of us, there is a place we feel safe when we feel threatened. The last one to make it was the first to appear off world, she ended up in her bedroom in Helium, located fifteen degrees from the South Pole of Mars.

We haven’t been able to save them all. We've lost three people who jumped from danger into death of one kind or another. We have all grieved and moved on. Space is vast, unforgiving, and unpredictable. Earth is worse.

Mom and Dad have both retired, but legacies go on. Mom’s NGO has grown to the largest and most efficient on earth, thanks to several of us that decided to be on constant call for emergencies like she had been. They save lives every day transporting people, supplies and food all over the world, just like she did. The rest of us pitch in when needed as scheduling and security permits.

Aye, security is still needed. The Daarkon group and its cronies were indeed rooted out and stamped to death in the light of day, but there are more than enough crazies on our home planet that want to kill or enslave jumpers. The psych tests are the most rigid and enlightened as can be created, and the Terran Space Agency, which took over from NASA, the ESA and four others requires all personnel who are likely to need to be jumped someday to be tested. Dad is still the only spontaneous jumper, thank god. The possibility of another one popping up is what makes governments tremor in fear.

A lot of good has come from the space program. The zero-g industry has taken off in just the way we hoped; space manufacturing has turned easy and cheap, with jumpers defraying orbital transportation costs. Mining from asteroids and rich moons help keeps the home planet working.

Mars is supporting a permanent population of over 6,000 people, scattered over 3 townships and several scientific outposts. There is a tourist trade, but even they have to pass the tests to get anywhere via jumper. It’s the one rule that was laid down in the beginning that everyone agrees with. One man from Venezuela learned how to jump after only 11 rides via jumper. We are very careful. Consequently, all humans scattered throughout the system tend to be even tempered and open minded, ready to listen and talk rather than fight and scream.

There are factions on Earth accusing the Agency of creating an elite caste of human being. Privately, I have to agree. I’d never say so aloud, but eventually we are going to find another earthlike planet and colonize it. We need those people to carry on unburdened by ancient attitudes and meaningless greed and hate. None of the jumpers want to just open the floodgates of humanity and populate some second Eden, we will want those places filled with the best examples of our race.

I’m hoping that the next century will shake some human compatible world loose. Two years after I landed on Mars we started sending out capsules. LOTS of capsules. We have stopped temporarily at 500. When a capsule goes out, at least two jumpers acquire it as a jump site and revisit it once a month in order to make sure it remains fresh in their minds.

The capsules are built for the purpose. They have individual paint jobs, loads of polyethylene shielding and a magnetic shield on top of that. We did find out that we couldn't accelerate them past 12% the speed of light; the time dilation effect becomes a problem with jumping. We don’t know why. 

But everything starts getting exciting in 25 years or so. The nearest system is Proxima Centauri at 4.12 light years. We don’t expect anything livable there, but we’re looking forward to exploring. Capsules should arrive at other stars in short order after that; did you know there are 50 stars between 4 and 16 light years away? We are going to be incredibly busy exploring from then on. Distance means nothing to a jumper; the sphere of our species will expand at .12 C until someone by god stops us. Every system we visit will add to our knowledge and power; our neighborhood gets bigger every day. And someday we will find that other Earth, one on which we can live on the surface without suit or fear.

Our own family is growing too. Joe and I have had six children, two of them adopted, and five of them turned jumper. We think the youngest will as well, but there’s no hurry or need. There are enough of us now that freak disaster won’t take us all out. It was a worry for a while until other jump breakouts happened among those we jump.

“Ad astra per aspera” means “through hardship to the stars”. It is our motto for these days as the universe draws nearer to us. We jumpers are more than tourists, we are the hope of our people, the cart and the horse, and will carry our species to the up and out. It’s more than just upstairs now, we are teleporting our people to the heavens to see what we may see.

And yes, David Bowie still rocks.


End file.
